Riddle 20

"Preposterous!" shouted the banker. "It was suicide wasn't it?" At this he pointedly looked at the
deputy. Dave flinches at the glare, but nonetheless he stuttered.
"T-that's right… We already declared this a s-suicide." At this Cheri spoke up.
"Police code 747, a suicide case can always be reopened if enough evidence exists that it could be murder or manslaughter, and this one looks like murder to me." Now two death glares were focused on our deputy, intent of making him keel over. Needless to say we weren't that lucky, as his standing up attested to, he was very much so alive. I turned my head away from the scared deputy, and instead turned my head towards Ms. Howard.

"Laura, where do you and Mr. Kilmeyer work?" She flinches at the familiar address,
"At Jones International Bank…"
I looked over at my partner, who was still shooting glares at the chief's minion. "Cheri?" She glanced back at me. "Didn't something happen on the news about that bank?
"Something like fraud?"
`"Yes, yes, something illegal." I slide forward, like a snake stalking his prey. "I suppose that something of that magnitude would permanently cripple a bank, right Mr. Kilometer?
"What are you inferring boy?" I throw my hands, and by consequence my arms, into the air.
"Nothing at all, I'm just asking you if that would be a disastrous thing for a company to go through?"
"…Yes it would be disastrous…" I slowly turned my head towards Laura. "Laura, what was your exact position at Jones International?"
"Secretary sir…"
"No need to call me sir, I'm just a poor unfortunate boy who misses the dead. Please call me Noah."
"I…Yes Noah…"
"Good. Now who do you work for as a secretary?"
"Well over the years I have-"
"No." I cut her off. "Who do you work for now?" She spoke in a tiny voice.
"Andrew Kilmeyer." Now the irate banker's patented 'Glare of Rightly Deserved Doom' was sent to his newly revealed secretary. I blocked it with the most advanced technique possible. I sat on the table and leaned forward to intercept it.
Now the focus of the patented glare, I calmly asked "What What do you know?"
"I-i can't say."
"And why not?"
"The elder girl of that trio practically transformed from a wilting flower to an enraged beast.
"Because I worked to damn hard to get this job as senior secretary for a high ranking executive, do you know how fucking difficult it is for a girl to get a nice job like that without being a slut‽"
"No I can honestly say that I don't." I calmly crossed my legs, which looked like a plea for sophistication, but the action was really a desperate attempt to protect my family jewels. "Did you want this job?"
"Of course I did!"
"No, what I meant was, was this job your dream job?" Her eyes turned glossy and I could tell that she was reminiscing about the past.
"when I was young I wanted to be an artist. Then I wouldn't grow up and I would meet this really handsome guy who loved my art. Then we would fall in love, and we would open a shop together the day we got married. Then, after the opening of the store-" and then she abruptly shut her mouth, turning a color reminiscent of the red velvet cakes Robin used to make.
I quickly chuckled, and was shot a scandalous look from the recipient of my interrogation. As she moved to hit my now protected jewels, I, with my quick tongue, asked "What happened?"
If I had recorded the time transformation from angrily scandalous to disappointing depression, the time would have had to have been less than half a second. "I couldn't hold a pen or pencil to save my life."
"There are more types of art than those that involve a writing utensil. "
"I am well aware of that…it's just …" an awkward lack of dialogue evolved between us, as we took what I will affectionately refer to as a 'Brainstorming Pause', but everyone else will call it 'Noah Spacing Out'. After a while my brain finished buffering and I said my final piece.
"To bring up an old cliched quote 'You can do what is easy or what is right' your choice." I got up off the table and walked over to where my partners and the police were standing. I didn't need to look back to know that the banker was extremely relieved.
"Wait." My musing was interrupted by a Ms. Howard. I turned my head around to send a questioning visage back at the person who just halted my gait.
"May I help you?" Laura's face was obscured by her light brown hair.
"I'll talk."
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"I said I'll talk dammit." The banker moved to smack the about-to-speak witness when he was stopped
with a powerful grip. A quick glance in that direction showed a certain police chief using his presence to
keep Andrew under wraps.
"Let's hear you then." And then with that our lovely secretary began her story.